Aftermath
by Jordon5
Summary: Post-graduation, Ivy is left alone to care for Jason's baby. Peter is left without the love of his life. Not knowing where else to turn, they lean on each other.
1. Month 1

**(Hello friends! As a huge fan of bare, I have always wondered what happened after graduation. So... here's my take on it! I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please review! It gives me encouragement! And if you don't like it.. review and tell me how I can be better!)**

Peter and I sat in a booth of a café near St. Cecelia's. Neither of us had eaten the food the waitress had slid in front of us. One week had passed since graduation. One week since Jason's funeral. One week since the person both of us loved, took his own love.

It was all too real. This was the stuff of movies. Closeted gay guy sleeps with pathetic slut in an attempt to make himself straight. Slut gets pregnant, and when the pregnancy and his true sexual orientation comes to light, he takes his own life, leaving the slut and his devastated ex/kind of boyfriend to pick up the pieces of their lives. I buried my face in my hands.

"Ivy-" Peter stops and clears his throat. "Ivy, I know you are scared. Hell, I'm scared for you. But I just want you to know that you aren't alone. I... I'm not related to your baby, but with Jason gone… What I am trying to say is I want to help. I'll be your baby's dad. Y'know, if you want."

I lifted my head and stared at him. Part of me didn't believe him. After having every guy I've ever even kind of depended on walk out when I needed them most, I didn't understand what he wanted. He obviously didn't want in my pants, that was all too clear. "Why? Why do you want to help me?" _What's in this for you?_

His eyes shown with tears. "I always pictured me and Jason together until we were old. We would go off to Notre Dame, and when same sex marriage was legalized, get married, then adopt some kids. The baby… Your baby is all that's left of Jason. What he did was wrong, leaving you, leaving me… but I want to be there for you. For Jason's baby."

I considered this. "Okay." I said simply.

"What do you mean? Okay, what?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Okay. If you want to help, I would love for my baby to have some sort of male whatever in its life. But what do we do from here? What about college?"

Now he shrugged. "I pulled out from Notre Dame when Jason and I broke up. Berkeley took me, but if I'm going to be responsible for a kid, I was thinking I would just enroll in a Junior college to earn my basics. Then I'll transfer and finish my Chemistry degree. Do research. Uh…" He cleared his throat again. "What do you want to do? I've never really heard you talk about the future."

I gave a small smile. "I don't know. I always expected to go into modeling or acting after high school, be a trophy wife. But now, I've got this kid to support. I thought about being a nurse or something. If things were different, maybe I would've…" I trailed off.

"What?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I loved government class. I always wondered if I could have made a good lawyer."

He looked down at his plate thoughtfully. "Well, maybe you could be a paralegal, a legal assistant."

I smiled at him. "Maybe." I leaned across the table and took his hand. "Peter, thank you. Knowing that I'm not alone makes me feel so much better."

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	2. Month 2

**(Chapter 2/Month 2! Reviews would be lovely!)**

2 months

I struggled to shut the car door, my arms full of boxes. Finally managed to kick it closed, and began the trudge up the metal stairs. I went through our open apartment door and found Ivy in the kitchen, unloading newspaper wrapped plates from a box.

"Where do you want the boxes?" I asked. She came and started rummaging through the box on top.

"Put them in the living room. We'll figure it out once everything is in." I nodded and sat them on our dingy couch. So much had happened in the past month. After talking it over with Ivy, I had to face my parents. My father had all but disowned me when I came out to him. My mother had pledged to love me for always, but I could tell by the way that her eyes watered every time she looked at me that if she could change who I am, she would. When I told her that I was going to move in with Ivy to help support her and raise Jason's baby, I thought she was going to lose it. She started crying and screaming about how I was throwing away my life for a boy who made me sin and then committed suicide. I tried to convince her that this was good, how I was going to make this a better situation. Then I made the mistake of mentioning that I was looking into community colleges instead of attending Berkeley. It was at that point that I decided it would be best for me to leave.

Then Ivy and I had gotten together and tried to find a community college that would work for us. We looked all over the US, Michigan to Alabama, Florida to California. We finally settled for a small junior college in North Texas. We wouldn't have even known about it, but Ivy's cousin had mentioned it during a phone call. Amarillo College, in Amarillo, Tx, Population: 193,675. It had been a hard move. Once we had finally decided on where we wanted to go, we got online and found an apartment. Once we had somewhere to sleep, we had to find furniture. We scoured craigslist and ebay, scanned newspaper ads, and begged relatives. We assembled a motley collection of used furniture, rented a u-haul, and made the almost 2,000 mile journey across America.

Amarillo was a culture shock. The Texas panhandle is flat, no hills, no trees. It's hot and dry, and it hasn't rained once since we arrived. According to locals, it will be cold as hell in a couple months. Everyone drives big trucks and says y'all. Needless to say, Ivy and I feel a little isolated.

I carried in the last box and kicked the door shut, stopping to turn on the ceiling fan. Ivy joined me in the tiny living room, and we both surveyed all of our worldly possessions in boxes on the brown carpet.

"Surreal, isn't it?" I asked absent mindedly.

"What?"

I shrugged. "Well, three days ago, we were in Massachusetts. We were just to kids, just out of high school. Now, we're in an entire different state, living in a little apartment that kind of smells like stale bread. Life changes so fast."

She smiles back at me. "No joke! Three months ago we were studying for the play. I wasn't knocked up, you still had Jason…" On that note we both went silent. What more was there to say? We both began going through the boxes, and unpacking our respective belongings.

I came in the door and threw my car keys in the bowl on the counter. I had secured a job as a hospitality worker at one of the local hotels. The work was okay, I didn't particularly like having to sometimes work nights, but it was a paying job. Ivy had gotten a job waitressing at a local sports bar. I didn't really think that was the best job for a pregnant woman, but she said she makes pretty good tips and the bar is no smoking, so I've kept my peace. Said pregnant woman was curled up in our one armchair, watching TLC. I flopped down on our sofa, rubbing my eyes and simultaneously kicking off my shoes.

Ivy glanced over at me. "Long day?"

I groaned. "People can be such assholes." She laughed. "No really. I had a couple refuse a room because it smelled like cigarette smoke. I went and investigated it personally, and it was fine. They were just trying to be difficult."

"Well, I'm sorry. Would ordering a pizza make you feel better?"

I smiled. "Shouldn't you be eating healthy?" I couldn't help teasing.

She threw a pillow at me. "I had a fucking salad for lunch, jerk. I can eat what I want."

I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay I'm sorry. I'll go get Pizza Hut's number."

Thirty minutes later we were both stretched out, chowing down on greasy, cheesy goodness, watching chubby moms dress their daughters like sluts and parade around on a stage. From beside me, Ivy snorted.

"God as my witness, I will never put my kid in pageant." I leaned across and bumped knuckles with her. "Agreed."

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	3. Month 3

**(Hello friends. Here is month 3. I figure this is mid/late July. Not sure how accurate that follows the musical. Sorry!)**

I stood in front of my mirror, tank top pulled up over my chest. I turned to the left, then to the right. I furrowed my eyes, scrutinizing my stomach.

"Hey Ivy, I read online that there's some big singer coming to the Burger Bar, would you want to go- What are you doing?" Peter's voice came from my open doorway behind me. I locked eyes with him through the mirror.

"Do you see it?"

He stood there for a moment, his weight shifting from one leg to another. "Uhm… See what?"

I turned, upset that he obviously wasn't paying attention to me. "This!" I nearly shrieked, jabbing a finger at my abdomen. There, centered behind my hipbones, was a perfectly rounded bump. He stepped forward and crouched down eye level with my belly button. He studied my tummy closely. He lifted his eyes up to mine.

"Can I, is it okay if I touch you?" His question caught me off guard. When we had agreed to this arrangement, we hadn't exactly talked about physicality. Still, I couldn't see anything wrong with it. I gave my blessing and he tenantively placed his hand against my tiny bump.

We stood there like that for a while, me holding up my shirt, him with a hand on my stomach, deep in thought.

"Now that I can see it… it feels so much more real." He whispered, not looking at me.

I smiled. "Not having second thoughts, are you?"

He stood and shook his hand. I pulled my tank top back down. He gently placed a hand on each shoulder. "We'll be okay Ivy. I promise." And with that, he walked out of my room.

I hoped that I hadn't let Ivy see how terrified I was. No, I wasn't having second thoughts, or wanting to run off, but seeing the slight roundness of Ivy's stomach, feeling the taught skin… It was a whole new level of realization. This was happening. This was happening now. In six short, short, months, I would be a father. Well, kind of. A child would be relying on me to provide for it, to love it, to accept it. As I got in the shower, the irony made me chuckle. I, Peter Simmonds, who had barely kissed a girl once in the eighth grade on a dare, although not by any means a virgin, was going to be a 'dad', when I didn't have the slightest idea about the female anatomy, and nor did I want to.

Rinsing the shampoo from my face I refocused on the future. The baby. Was Ivy carrying a boy or girl? What would we name it? Would it be straight, gay, bisexual? Would it be musical, artistic, athletic? Who would it look like? An pray tell, how are we going to explain the fucked up story of its conception and how I came to be its stand in father? What would we do about religion? As I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist, I resolved not to worry about the last two questions just yet.

Baby steps Peter. Baby steps.

I somehow found myself in the Randall County Public Library. I wander around, brushing my fingers over the spines of the books. I had never been one for reading; I need to be up and moving and doing, but with so much on my mind, the quiet atmosphere and gentle leathery smell calmed me. I rounded the corner and found myself looking through a clear window. Inside was a plump woman sitting in a chair, little kids scattered about her feet. In her hand was 'Oh The Places You'll Go,' by Dr. Seuss. I leaned my forehead against the window and let my eyes fall shut, letting the familiar words wash over me.

"_And when you're alone there's a very good chance  
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants  
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,  
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on."_

Oh Dr. Seuss. Looking back it feels like your words are meant specifically for me. Like you were trying to warn eight-year-old me that the shit was about to hit the fan.

"Excuse me. Are you here to pick up your little brother or sister?" I turned and found the little smiling librarian I had passed upon entering the library.

"Oh no… Just listening. Can you tell me where the pregnancy and parenting books are?" I saw her eyes begin to fill with that all too familiar pitying look. "I need it for my child development class." I added in a rush. I didn't even know this lady, I don't know why I felt the need to defend myself. She nodded and led me to the right section, helping me pick out the best books for my "class." She helped me carry them to check out corner, She issued me a library card, and gave a canvas tote to carry my new books in. When I turned to leave, she put her tiny, wrinkled hand over mine.

"Dear, any time you want to just come in and listen… or even if you need to talk… you can always come to the library." I smiled, and she squeezed my hand. As I walked out into the sunlight, I closed my eyes and basked in the warmth for a moment.

_Maybe… Maybe this won't be too bad. Maybe Peter and I can really do this._

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	4. Month 4

**(Hello friends. I'm back, with Chapter 4, month 4. I hope you enjoy!)**

Ivy

I groaned as came through the front door, kicking off my shoes. My day had been busy, with 2 morning classes then an eight hour shift. I had the apartment to myself because Peter was working a nightshift at the Comfort Inn. I knew that Peter didn't like the fact that I was working at a bar, or that I was working such long hours, but we needed money to buy a crib and other baby necessities. Not to mention, once the baby got here, I wouldn't be able to work as much, and I needed to save up. Speaking of saving up, upon reaching my bedroom, I grabbed my rolled up apron and dumped out all of my tips onto the bed. Sitting cross legged, I quickly counted through the crumpled daughters and various coins. $72.85. Not bad for working from noon till eight on a Tuesday. I had a sneaking suspicion that some of it had been due to the pregnancy boobs I had acquired at the end of my third month. Where I had always been a moderate A, sometimes a B, all of a sudden I was a full blown C.

I scooped up the cash and deposited it into the zippered bag I kept in my nightstand. On Saturday morning I would take the bag containing the entire weeks' tips and deposit it in the bank. As I strolled into the kitchen, I absent mindedly rubbed my hand over my growing bump. It was still hard to comprehend that there was an actual life inside of me. A tiny little human being who had started out no bigger than the tip of a pen was now almost the size of a lemon.

I grabbed Chinese leftovers out of the fridge and set down at the kitchen table, my textbooks still spread out from me studying before work. I had worked with my advisor to defer every class that I could take online until next semester, so that I could have more time with the baby and I wouldn't spend so much money on daycare. I took a bite of egg noodles and went back to reading my legal writing textbook. But I had barely read the first sentence when I felt it. At first I just thought the noodles were going down bad, but when I stopped and focused I realized that it had nothing to do with the China Star takeout. Directly behind my belly button was a the faintest little flutter. I put down my cheap chopsticks and sat back in my chair in shock. The baby… It was moving! I could feel it moving!

All at once I was hit with a million different emotions. There was joy at knowing that the baby was developing healthily. Then an uncontrollable sadness. Jason was gone. My child's biological father would never know his son or daughter. My mother was 2000 miles away. I couldn't share this with her. And there's nothing to say that she would even want to share this with me. She had been devastated when I broke the news of my pregnancy. My dad had left when I was nine and she had raised me on her own, working two jobs and applying for grants to get me into a Catholic boarding school .I was disappointed that Peter wasn't there to experience these tiny movements. He was such a good guy, taking on his ex's bastard child as his own. Finally, I was terrified. It just cemented that this was really happening.

The tears came fast, like a flood. I put my head down on my book and just let myself cry. This situation was so fucked up. I wanted my mom, I wanted to be lying on an extra-long twin bed in a smelly dorm room. I wanted my mom. I wanted to go back before I had sex with Jason, before I slept with anyone, before I started high school, before Dad left. I wanted to be a little girl again. I was in no way ready for all of these responsibilities. My chest ached with the strength of my sobs. I needed someone to hug me. I needed someone to tell me it would be okay.

Peter

Working the night shift was kicking my ass. On Tuesdays I would go to my morning classes then go home for a quick nap before going in at six. The worst part was the overwhelming boredom. I had to sit behind the counter for twelve hours, praying for some drunk to vomit all on something so at least I would have something to do. I tried to stay productive, working on homework during the stretches between room calls. The last couple of hours, from two till six, were the worst. Even while I was reading over my Organic Chem textbook my eyelids would droop, itching to shut, to sleep.

But I was finally done. I tried to enter the apartment quietly. Ivy had been having troubles sleeping and I didn't want to wake her. I made my way to the kitchen, intending to grab a glass of water before crashing. But I was met with a heartbreaking sight. Ivy was asleep with her head on her books. I could tell by face that she had been crying, and crying hard. I hadn't seen her cry since the funeral. I knew that this was hard on her. It was hard on everyone involved.

I gently hoisted Ivy from the kitchen table. I put her arm across my shoulder and gently walked her towards her bedroom. She had only gained maybe five or ten pounds so far, but she was still difficult to maneuver. However, I finally got her to her bed. I threw back the covers and tried to gently deposit her into the bed. As I was pulling the blanket over her, she stirred slightly. Her eyes flickered open slightly and she mumbled under her breath.

"I'm so sorry Mom."

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know anything about Ivy's home life. I knew that her mom hadn't been very accepting of her pregnancy, but we were Catholic after all. Finally I decided that the least I could do was try to comfort her dreams.

"It's okay Ivy. I know you didn't mean to get pregnant, and you would take it back if you could."

She furrowed her brow. "No… for everything. I'm sorry for not being a good girl. I'm sorry for kissing all the boys. I'm sorry for…" She mumbled something that I couldn't understand. I knew it was none of my business, but my curiosity was piqued.

"Sorry for what Ivy?"

She snuggled deeper into the pillow and for a minute I thought she had fallen back into a deep sleep. I was about to go to my room when I heard her unknowingly answer.

"I'm sorry for letting Daddy touch me."

I didn't get a lot of sleep. I couldn't get what Ivy had said out of my head. I shouldn't have heard it; I should have never answered her back. It all seemed to make sense. Why Ivy had slept around so much in high school, why she seemed so at ease with letting guys just walk all over her, why she never talked about her home life. Wasn't early promiscuity a key sign of sexual abuse? I tossed and turned all night. I felt like I had an obligation to tell Ivy, but I couldn't imagine that she would react well and it was kind of law to try not to upset pregnant women. What if she had a miscarriage? But what if I didn't tell her that I knew, and she found out later, and she threw me out of her life?

When I finally fell asleep at almost 9:00, I resolved that I had to tell her. I just didn't know how.

**(Well, there you go. This isn't stated in the musical, but in my mind it makes sense. If you liked it, please review. If you didn't like where I took this story, please review. Frankly, if you are reading this, please review so that I know that someone is. -Jordon)**


	5. Month 5

**(here is month 5! Enjoy)**

Ivy

It was finally here. My 18 week sonogram. I had been looking forward to it for weeks. Not only would Peter and I get to see the baby (who we had nicknamed Cookie) again and make sure it was healthy, we might find out if what gender I was expecting.

Peter. He had been acting so weird. It all started after the night I first felt Cookie move. I must have fallen asleep at the table, but I had woken up in my bed. The next morning I thanked Peter, but he had been really quiet. For the past few weeks I had done everything I could to engage him in conversation: asking about school, complaining about work, asking his opinion on names, but he wouldn't open u about what was bothering him.

Peter pulled the car into the doctor's office parking lot and I unbuckled my seatbelt. Another big change due to pregnancy. My entire life I had resisted using any kind of safety precautions: seat belts, helmets, condoms (and look where that had gotten me.) It was like I got high on the adrenaline of taking risks. Peter walked beside me on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It was October, and sure enough fall had brought bitter cold winds. He held the door open for me and I hurried into the warmth of the waiting room. I sat on one of the uncomfortable blue chairs and Peter told the receptionist we were there. I picked up one of the tattered parenting magazines and flipped through it aimlessly. Peter came and sat beside me.

A woman sitting opposite of us leaned forward. "How far along are you dear?" She had a plain face, and was in her late twenties, early thirties. Her huge stomach made it hard for her to lean forward completely.

I smiled back. "18 weeks, almost 5 months."

"Oh how wonderful! I'm 38 weeks along, with my 8th."

My jaw dropped and Peter launched into a massive coughing fit. "Eight? Like eight children?"

She nodded back blithely. "Oh yes. Let's see Timothy is nine, Catherine is eight, Hannah is six, the twins Daniel and Elizabeth are 5, Ezra is 3, and Noah is 18 months. And little Abigail or James is a couple weeks away!" She patted her tummy warmly.

I sat there in shocked silence. EIGHT FLIPPING KIDS? I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around one. Thankfully just then the nurse called out my name and Peter and I left the chatty super mom with a small wave. As we went through the door I heard her call out to one of the kids playing at the toy table.

"Daniel! Don't hit your sister! Remember, Jesus is watching you and bad kids make him cry!"

The nurse shut the door behind us and Peter and I busted out laughing. By the time the nurse led us to the weight and blood check station we were almost in tears. It felt good to laugh like we were kids again. The nurse went about checking my vitals then led us to an exam room decorated like a farm. Animal decals lined the walls and I felt like I was in elementary school again. I sat on the table and Peter took one of the chairs. The awkward silence returned.

I didn't understand, we had been getting along so well. What had I done?

The doctor came quickly. She was moderately tall and kind of pretty. I liked her because she was warm and kind, not treating us badly for being young and irresponsible. She asked some routine questions then began to explain what was happening at this point in the pregnancy.

"At this point in the pregnancy you are almost 5 months and nearly halfway through the pregnancy. The baby is steadily gaining weight and is covered in a waxy substance called vernix caseosa. It acts like Chap Stick, protecting the baby. The baby's eyes are sensitive to light. If you were to shine a flashlight onto your bump the baby will move. But from all of the examinations, the baby seems very healthy. Are you ready for your ultrasound?"

Peter and I nodded enthusiastically. Once we knew the gender we could begin shopping and begin planning. I laid back on the table and the doctor asked Peter to get the lights. She pulled out the ultrasound cart and got it ready. She carefully lifted my shirt and squirted goo onto my bump. She took the wand and carefully rolled it around my stomach. Moments later, Cookie appeared on the screen. A soft thumping sound filled the small dim room.

"That's the baby's heartbeat. Here is the hands, the feet, the head… Everything looks awesome!"

Peter spoke up. "And the gender?"

The doctor smiled at us, her eyes twinkling. "A beautiful baby girl." I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. A girl! Visions of dresses and bows, dance classes and piano filled my head. Peter gently took my hand and squeezed.

After the appointment we decided to go out for lunch. I babbled on about all of the things I was so excited about between bites of my turkey sandwich.

"…always wanted to learn how to play the violin, maybe we could do that for Cookie! And speaking of we need to decide on a name, she can't be Cookie forever, that'll give her a complex for sure, and- Peter, what's wrong?"

He looked up at me alarmed and a bit guilty. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to a pregnant lady. You've been acting weird for weeks now. What is it? Are you regretting it? Do you want to leave?"

"No no no!" Peter reached out and grabbed my hand. "Ivy, I'm not having second thoughts. I'm going to be here for as long as you will let me be."

"Then what is wrong?"

He sighed and took a drink of his soda. "Do you remember the night you first felt the baby move?"

I frowned. "Yes."

"Well, as I was putting you in bed you… mentioned, er confessed something to me in your sleep."

Now I was really confused. "Peter, spit it out."

"You said that, well, you thought I was-"

"Peter!"

"You told me that your dad molested you." The silence between us was thick, his words swimming between us. I had no idea what to say. Neither did he, apparently.

"Oh." I kept my eyes on my plate. Peter knew my most hidden secret. I had never told anyone.

"Ivy… Look at me." I shook my head. "Ivy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… You shouldn't feel guilty."

I took a shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. "I was eight." I whispered. "When my mom found out she divorced him. I haven't seen him since I was nine."

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head, finally looking him in the eye and giving him a shaky smile. "Don't be. It's water under the bridge. I have good things in my life: baby Cookie, on my way to having a good career, and the best non-boyfriend a girl could ask for."

**(What did you think? Review, let me know! -Jordon)**


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